The massacre of the English language from someone who ought to know better. (speaks for a living, i.e., newscasters and their ilk.)
How many Gauderes do I get for that sentence?
The other day it was being in a room full of middle aged women openly disparaging the names a soon to be mother would pick for her child based upon either THEY don’t like the sound of it, or the child will be teased in school. One of the women in question has a child named Brittany, so we can see how much weight her opinion should hold. Anyway, the way they went about it was just RUDE. Now I’m firmly in the camp that thinks going out of your way to fuck up the spelling of a kid’s name just to make them different is lame in the extreme, but if a parent is putting actual thought into what they want to name their child, it’s just mean to be an ass about it to their face.
As for kids getting teased, the mother to be wasn’t talking about naming her kid Rogering McFuckme or anything like that, and kids will find something to tease about no matter what the name is.
I live in a six-plex and two of the people who live there will get their mail and leave all their junk mail on the floor in front of the mailboxes. I can tell from looking at it and seeing the apartment numbers who’s doing it. This makes my head explode. Seriously, who do they expect to pick up after them? It drives me nuts, probably more than it should.
Friends that say they are going to do something (that is mundane or not even really all that important) and then not do it. Makes me feel I can’t depend on them.
Me too - however it’s a not a plex - just a house. My husband and my son both get home before I do, and the mailbox can be doubled over under the weight of the junkmail and important stuff like real addressed mail, really addressed to one of us, and yet, mysteriously, the mailbox turns invisible and I inevitably have to park the car then walk back and pick it all up, because apparently I am the only one who can see said mailbox, with stuff poking out everywhere. I live with two mail-box impaired males. I’ve even tried introducing them to the mailbox. See - no spiders, rattlesnakes or radical extremists in it, just mail. Please. Bring. It. In.
Customers at my bar who reply to my cheery “How are you doing?” with a terse, “Bud Light.”
Not even a “please.” Who are these people that can’t even respond to a simple pleasantry before demanding beer? Where are their mothers? Who raises these people?
And then people wonder why I don’t always greet everyone so damn cheerfully. grrrrrr
People who see me reading and ask me what my book is about.
Friends who respond to my thought-out, personal emails (which include questions about their lives and short anecdotes from mine) without answering a single question I’ve asked or commenting on anything I’ve told them. It’s like I never said anything at all.
Hanging out with a group of friends while watching a movie. A person’s cell phone rings and they proceed to have a loud conversation while everyone else is trying to watch the movie.
The other day, I was starving and cooked myself some steak tips and just to be fancy I added some teriaki glaze. Then I started boiling some mashed potatoes–this is epic levels of cooking for me, you have to understand. Then I burnt the glaze to the steak by letting it simmer too long and I had to cut the burnt parts off, and I drained the water from the potatoes even though they weren’t yet cooked well enough to mash.
I seriously wanted to smash the frying pan through the wall and then go and slit my wrists. Screwing up at cooking is fucking infuriating. The slightest thing goes wrong and I’m convinced I am an eternal failure as a chef and person.
My other thing is people who are condescending. It pisses me off royally when they are condescending to others, but if they’re condescending to ME… :mad:
The way my sister has to comment on something negative about my appearance every single time she sees me. (You have roots showing. Is that a stain on your shirt? Those pants are getting old. etc. I’m at my mother’s on a Sunday afternoon, do I have to dress up?) She never manages to do it in such a way that I can call her on it. It’s very subtle and drives me crazy.
Just reading that made my blood pressure go right through the roof! Why am I always behind the person buying a crazy assortment of scratch off tickets (“I want three Four Leaf Clovers, five Lucky Sevens … no, I said three Four Leaf Clovers, not four Four Leaf Clovers, ten Crazy Eights … no, not eight Lucky Sevens … now I lost track, let me start again…”)?
Also, in my neighborhood there seems to be this notion that people buying lottery tickets don’t have to wait in line with people buying stuff, so they go right to the counter. I don’t know what is worse … that customers do it, or that clerks go along with it. When you see a news story about a woman going crazy and smashing up a convenience store lottery machine, that will be me.
People who take forever getting their shit together after completing a transaction. Step to the side and let the next person get to the register/ATM/whatever. Instead they organize all their change and coupons and photos of their ugly children while blocking access for the rest of us; AND
People who stand in a line with 20 other people and then are bewildered by the process when it is their turn. At the airport, they don’t seem to notice that everyone else in line for the past 30 minutes has had to talk off their shoes and their coat, put their laptop in a special tray, etc. They ask “do I take off my shoes? What about my coat?” Morons, morons, morons, morons, morons.
lol I’m sorry, I have to point this out. You get mad when people don’t converse with you when YOU initiate the conversation, but if someone else tries to initiate the conversation by asking you about your book, you get mad? Not starting anything, just saying that this is weird.
What pisses me off to no end are people who cruise under the speed limit in the fast lane. GET.THE.FUCK.OUT.OF.THAT.LANE. It’s the passing lane dammit !
Oooh I forgot about this one. I totally fucked up at dinner on Sunday and I was furious all evening. I think it may have even tainted the whole week. (The fact that I usually don’t fuck up cooking at all, let alone epically made it worse I’m sure).
No, it isn’t. In one case, the person is responding to regular politeness (not a conversation-starter) with rude snappiness.
In the second case, a person is interrupting someone who is obviously involved in a solitary activity and doesn’t want to talk.
Anyway, this is totally unfair, but it absolutely drives me up the wall when I’m doing something that’s annoying me, and I make some sort of noise of annoyance, and someone (usually Hamish) asks me what the trouble is.
If I thought you could do anything about the situation, I would have asked you. Interrupting what I’m doing to slake your own curiosity just disrupts my concentration further and annoys me even more when you already know I’m annoyed.
That I’m the only person in this apartment who cleans anything other than dishes.
That may not qualify as a “little thing”.
How about dishes being piled in the sink? It’s not like I can’t just move them out of the way, but it really pisses me off when there’s crap in the sink in the way. I’m hardly the best at getting my dishes cleaned promptly but at least I don’t leave them where they’ll get in everybody’s way.
ETA:
Oh, and overflowing garbage cans. Drives me nuts. My parents and siblings do it too – my mom has this awful habit of starting a new garbage bag without throwing out the old one.
